Chuck vs The Sting of Steele
by 2old2write
Summary: Chuck and Sarah work on opposite sides to save an old friend from a murderous thug from London. Will Chuck's nerd upbringing turn the tide or will Sarah revert to her days as a conwoman? Charah, of course!
1. 1 Wheel of Fortune

**A/N1: **Welcome back to my world of Season 6 and Episode 4. I hope you don't mind my indulgence in continuing this vision of the future for Chuck and Sarah.

One of my wife's and my favorite detective shows was _Remington Steele_. If you aren't familiar with this show, it was about a strong woman trying to make it as a private investigator, and the handsome conman who turned her life upside down. It ran on NBC for four years (1982-1986) before being cancelled. Then, by popular demand, it was brought back for a truncated, and very unsatisfactory fifth season. (Sound familiar?) Anyway, the writing was witty, there was great chemistry between the characters, and it still remains fresh (despite the disco inspired music) today.

This episode for Chuck and Sarah is a rewrite of the next to last episode of the first season entitled _The Sting of Steele_. It just seemed to scream at me for a C&S version. My thanks to Michael Gleason and Robert Butler, creators of Remington Steele, and Gary Kott, writer of this particular episode. I ask these gentlemen for their forgiveness for subjecting their show to my amateur musings. I hope it works for you. As it is about 2/3's written, it looks like it will be more like a four act tv show, than Episodes 2 and 3, _Chuck v The Missing Spies_.

A big thank you to **quistie64** for her terrific advice on a writing problem and I hope I did her suggestions justice. Thanks, too, to all those who pointed out errors and/or made suggestions for improvements, in my previous fanfic offerings. All mistakes are mine. I do appreciate your comments, as do all the writers on these pages.

I don't own Warner Bros., MTM Productions, Twentieth Century Fox, nbc, Chuck, Sarah, Laura Holt, Remington Steele, or any of the other wonderful characters from either of these television shows. No disrespect is intended towards any of the above.

**Chuck vs The Sting of Steele  
****Season 6, Episode 4**

**1. Wheel of Fortune**

**Scene 1:  
****February 14, 2013  
****12 Midnight  
****London, England**

The chimes of Big Ben struck midnight, but fog completely obscured the tower. Traffic was almost non-existent due to the fog, while the footsteps of the few pedestrians still out echoed eerily through the night.

_The Ritz Club_, on Piccadelly, had once, during the 60's, been one of London's most exclusive. Private clubs had gone through a decline during the 90's, however, and only a few still remained, slowly losing the fight against the giant, corporate-backed casinos. This particular club was showing its age, with threadbare carpeting, and well-worn gaming tables. A good night would see 30-40 patrons; most nights, about half that number.

On this foggy night there had been less than fifteen members and guests. As the chimes struck midnight, only eight remained: three playing blackjack, three at the roulette wheel, and two at a well worn craps table. While the larger casinos saw their players in the casual dress of today's society, the private clubs still required everyone to dress in traditional formal attire. The two gentlemen sitting at the roulette wheel wore their tuxedos well, while the one woman in the club, also at the wheel, wore a red, full length dress that was missing more than a few sequins, too much makeup, and smoked incessantly.

One of the gentlemen coughed incessantly, and glared at the woman each time she lit up another cigarette, but she ether didn't notice or didn't care. His hair was thick and bushy, covering his ears, and a silvery gray. He also continually played with a device that appeared to be an antique hearing aid, which caused him to miss several spins of the wheel. The second gentleman sat ramrod straight, with short cropped hair, and a stoic face; he bore the appearance of a former military man.

Neither the woman, nor the silver-haired gentlemen, was having much luck this damp, foggy evening, but the second man was winning on a regular basis. It even seemed, at times, that the ball mysteriously jumped from one number to another, most often landing on the military man's number and color. As his stack of chips continued to grow the woman gradually moved her chair closer, but the man didn't seem to notice.

However, a man standing at the end of the bar was noticing the _luck_ that seemed to be at work at the wheel tonight. He continued to watch, first, the man who was winning so many spins, and then the ball as is twirled and bounced around the wheel. A frown was beginning to show on his face and he silently signaled to another man to join the table.

Twenty minutes later both older men began to pack in their chips. The man with the hearing aid was coughing more and appeared very frustrated at not being able to hear what was going on. Having lost several hundred pounds, he stood, thanked the casino worker by throwing her the smallest chip in his hand, and began to walk towards the coat check window.

The second man also stood, "Guess I should stop now while lady luck is still with me. Good evening to you all." He tossed the worker a much larger tip than the first man, then bowed slightly to the woman sitting next to him. She started to reach out to him, but he quickly turned, and walked away.

The first man put his coat on before walking to the money cage. The mlitary man cashed in his chips, receiving the cash in a bright blue bag with the club logo in gold. Then the two men exchanged places. After cashing his chips in, and receiving considerably less money than he had entered with, the silver-haired man started towards the door. Just as he came to the coat check he dropped his hat. Putting his bag on the floor next to the other gentlemen's, he retrieved his hat, stood up with the other man's bag in his hand, and, with a sigh of old age, walked out the front door.

Meanwhile, the two men who had been observing the roulette wheel had walked to a door in the back of the room. They knocked twice and then entered. A man in an expensive suit sat behind the desk. He had a crooked, craggy face and his smile was not one of friendship, but of malice. "What do you two want?"

"Boss," the first man, who had watched from the bar spoke up, "I think we've been cheated."

"How can that be? People don't cheat us; we cheat them!"

The military man finished getting his coat and hat on, and walked to the door. But as he reached for it, it opened. In the doorway was the second security man: "Good evening, sir. Mr. Hoskins, the club owner, would like to personally congratulate you on your luck tonight." The other security man had walked up behind him now, and he could feel the barrel of a gun sticking in his back.

"What is this?" The owner, Mr. Hoskins, had dumped the contents of the money bag on his desk. A tall stack of blank note pads now rested there.

The security man blurted out, "That isn't possible. He should have a half million pounds in that bag!"

"Who's your partner, mate?" The club owner stood, towering over the military man, his fists flexing open and closed.

"I-I-I don't h-have a partner." Sweat stood out on his forehead as he stammered out the answer.

As Hoskins pulled out a pistol and screwed on a silencer, he continued, "You can walk out of 'ere with my admiration for a piece of work well done."

"You're going to let him go," one of the security men squealed?

"'e's just the shill; I want the little darling what thought up this gem. Now … on the count of three…." He was now pointing the gun at the man's head. "One" ... he cocked the pistol ... "two ... thr…."

"Franko … Simon Franko. The chap with the silver hair and the hearing aid!" As he begins to stand he grovels, "Thank you, Mr. Hoskins. You won't catch me around here anymore."

PFFT! "Next time, you two catch these buggers before they rip me off. Now get this mess cleaned up."

**Scene 2:  
****February 14, 2013  
****8:00 pm  
****Los Angeles, California**

After returning home from Africa the previous Friday, Chuck and Sarah did little more, over the weekend, than sleep and eat ... well, a little more, anyway. Alex and Morgan, knowing they were on the way home, had made sure their fridge and pantry were well stocked, so there was no reason to leave their cozy apartment. They slept, ate, made love, all while completely ignoring the outside world. Monday would bring them back to earth soon enough, when they had to return to _Carmichael Industries_, to catch up with all they had missed.

The bad news was: it was only five days until Valentine's Day, and Chuck really wanted to make this year their most memorable. So, Sunday afternoon, while Sarah napped on the sofa, he got on the computer and, despite the lateness, made all the necessary reservations.

In all their years together, they had never really had a great Valentine's Day:

_Year One:_ Sarah was in Washington, DC, meeting with her superiors, after the Long Street fiasco, about what to do with him. Things were still awkward between them because of _The Kiss_, Bryce, and Sarah's refusal to acknowledge her own feelings.

_Year Two:_ they had not planned anything, and then were called for a mission in the suburbs. While they were closer than ever, the awkwardness standing between them was still present.

_Year Three_ found them in the midst of the Prague/Hannah/Shaw debacle … a time they would both like to forget. Well, actually, Sarah had few memories of this time, but it still sent Chuck into spasms of guilt and regret.

_Year Four:_ They were in love, living together, and it appeared they would finally have a wonderful celebration together. That is, until Casey interrupted, and they where whisked off to meet Vivian MacArthur, née Volkoff.

_Year Five:_ the greatest disaster of them all! Months earlier, Chuck had planned an incredible night for them: he booked a suite at the _Mondrian Los Angeles Hotel_. The hotel had a five star restaurant, where they would dine and dance the early evening away. Then they would go to the _Skybar_, a rooftop club, for more dancing and partying. But fate once again intervened. By the time Valentine's Day rolled around, Sarah, with no memories of Chuck or their life together, had left him to return to the CIA for retraining.

Chuck and Sarah were now sitting in the _Mondrian Los Angeles Hotel's_ restaurant, the same one he had planned for last year, sharing a glass of champaign, staring into each others' eyes. They had enjoyed an amazing meal, after spending a good part of the early evening in each other's arms, dancing to the great love songs of the twentieth century.

Earlier, Sarah had stood, for several moments, leaning against their suite's bathroom door. She was having trouble breathing as she looked at her man … her Chuck … who was standing at the windows, looking out over the city. He was dressed in a dark blue suit, his strong shoulders and long limbs filling it perfectly, making her heart flutter. Her cute, adorable, curly-haired nerd had turned into an irresistibly handsome man; one that made her long to pull him against her, and hold him tightly, all night long.

Chuck realized he hadn't heard anything from the bathroom for some time so he turned in that direction. He inhaled deeply as his mouth dropped open: Sarah was in a blue, sparkling dress that hugged each and every curve of her incredible body, and stopped several inches above her knees. As beautiful as the dress was, it paled in comparison to her cobalt blue eyes, shining out at him. Her very high heeled, matching blue shoes made her shapely legs appear even longer than usual. It was all topped off by her golden hair, falling gently onto her shoulders and swirling to and fro as she gently moved her head. When his brain finally kickstarted again, he wondering if he had made a mistake with reservations at the restaurant, rather than room service.

Their server approached the table and broke the reverie between them, "Mr. & Mrs. Carmichael, if I might suggest, we will take your champagne up to the _Skybar_ for you now, where we will serve dessert."

Looking at Sarah with his crooked little smile and raised eyebrows, all he could say was, "Isn't this place amazing?"

Chuck quickly moved to Sarah's side of the table and pulled her chair out for her. Standing side by side, she took his arm with her's, and they followed the server to the private elevator, reserved for guests going up to the exclusive _Skybar_. Even before the doors closed, she moved in front of him, pulling him into a kiss that left no doubt there was more … much more … love to come this night.

It was a little past three a.m. as they walked down the hallway, arm in arm. They had danced, fed each other dessert, and thoroughly enjoyed the party. Sarah was carrying her shoes now, in her right hand, which was draped around Chuck's waist. The height difference making it perfect for her to snuggle into Chuck's left side, his arm around her shoulders. He held her left hand to his chest with his right hand, the simple connection sending warm sensations through each of them. Reaching their room, he pulled out his keycard and unlocked the door. Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her into the suite, causing chuckles from them both, as he worked to maneuver them both into the room without whacking her head on the door or frame. Setting her down, he took her face in both his hands and stared deeply into the blue oceans that were her eyes, "I love you so much … Happy Valentine's Day!"

"And I love you right back." With that, their lips met again, their bodies melting into one another. Sarah began pushing Chuck's suit jacket off his shoulders and down his arms, as their lips and tongues worked their magic on each other.

**Scene 3:  
****February 16, 2013  
****2:30 pm  
****New York City**

"Hi Darlin' … this is your Dad."

"Hey Dad, how are you?"

Sarah had gone to the grocery store and was now on the I-5, heading north, winding up the Lotus to the tune of 125 mph, when her phone rang. It was a ritual of her's to take the car out for a high speed romp whenever possible. She said it was to make sure this high performance car was kept in good trim, but it was really more about her own adrenaline rush. She had been pulled over a few times at first, but now most of CHP knew the sleek, black car, with the beautiful blonde behind the wheel, and just let her go. But with the phone ringing, she quickly decelerated to a mere 80 mph before answering.

"Sarah," there was pause before he continued, "you know I'm not one to ask for help, but I'm in serious trouble, and only you can help."

"What is it? What can we do?"

"Not on the phone, darlin'. I'm headed your way and will be there in a few days. I will let you know the details soon. Now listen: I need your help, but … but it's got to be just you and me. We need to keep the schnook out of it … for both your sakes."

"Daaaaaad…."

Before she could say anything more the connection broke. Tears were beginning to sting her eyes and she continued to slow until is was safe to pull over, onto the shoulder. She stared at the phone as if willing it to reconnect with her dad. _What the hell? This must really be serious. But how can I not tell Chuck? _So, with her brain now going faster than the Lotus, she got back on the Interstate, took the first exit she came to, and headed home.

**Scene 4:  
****February 21, 2013  
****3:30 am  
**_**Carmichael Industries**_

United Airline flight UA929 from London to Los Angeles, with a plane change in Chicago, was brutal for the man from London. On a mission to LA, Albert Hoskins was exhausted; the sixteen hours of travel had taken it's toll by the time he finally arrived at the _Embassy Suite Hotel,_ about two miles from LAX. The jet lag didn't seem to be bothering him, but all the time cramped into seats too small, and food too poor, made him stiff and completely out of sorts.

The next morning he arose in time to workout, bathe, and eat lunch in the hotel coffee shop. _Blech! 'ow can these Americans stand this stuff?_ Back in his room, he pulled out the information he had received from his solicitor, and asked the hotel operator to place a call to a _Carmichael Industries_. He talked to an entirely too cheerful young woman, who told him it would take about an hour, by taxi, to arrive at _CI_. He was given a code number to enter into the elevator keypad … _What kind of place is it what needs a code to get a lift?_ … and left to go down to the lobby.

When he stepped into the main foyer of _Carmichael Industries_ he was struck by how much it resembled a law office in London … except for all the high tech security, display monitors everywhere, and the bright, sunny view out all the windows. A young lady bounced up from her desk and came to greet him; he assumed it was the one he had spoken to earlier.

"Hello, Mr. Hoskins. Mr. Carmichael will be ready to meet with you in about five minutes. May I get you coffee … or maybe tea?"

"No, young lady, you may not! Now just you tell your boss to 'urry it up. I'm a busy man." Yes, it was the same, overly happy young woman. _Blasted Americans…._

Rita Thompson had only been at _CI_ for a couple of weeks, and this was the first time she had been rebuked; her naturally bubbly personality usually put the clients at ease. Nevertheless, she continued to smile, and directed the gentleman to the leather sofa by the windows. "If you need to check your email or use the internet, you may use the keyboard on the table; press any key and a monitor will slide up from under the coffee table. I will let Mr. Carmichael know you are here." Before he could respond, she turned, and walked back to her desk.

Hoskins softly growled, while admiring her retreating back. _Email … internet … bah! _

Rita walked down the hallway to Chuck's office and knocked on the door frame softly. "Mr. Carmichael: Mr. Hoskins is here. And if I may say so, sir, he is a most unpleasant man."

"Now, now, Rita. Let's not jump to conclusions. I'm done here, so why don't I come out and greet him."

"Thank you, sir."

"Rita, Rita … how many times do I have to tell you, you don't need to call me 'sir'? Oh, and by the way, do you know where Sarah is this afternoon?"

"No, sir ... sorry, sir … Mrs. Carmichael said she had a couple of errands to run, and it would take the rest of the day. She said to tell you she would see you at home for supper."

"Thanks, Rita."

Chuck had grabbed a bottle of water, setting it on his desk, while they were talking. He then walked out to the foyer, moving slowly enough to size up the prospective client._ Older man ... rather out of style suit … bet he hates technology … what in the world could he need us for?_ _No flash, so he's not a spy._ "Mr. Hoskins," Chuck said as he walked up to the sofa, his best smile on his face, and his hand outstretched, ready to shake the man's hand. "Welcome to _Carmichael Industries_. I'm Charles Carmichael. Please join me in my office."

Once they were seated, Chuck opened the conversation, "So Mr. Hoskins, what brings you to Los Angeles?"

"I'm 'ere from London, seeking your services to find someone."

"I'm not sure you understand what we do here; we are not private investigators. We deal in security and technological services. I would be happy to recommend a couple of fine, local investigators." Chuck was standing and prepared to see the man out of his office.

Mr. Hoskins was not to be denied, however: "You Americans are very gruff. 'ere I am ... a stranger in your country ... and _Carmichael Industries_ is the only name I know. And you just want to turn me away."

This speech hit home with Chuck: he never wanted to hurt anyone, or to disappoint those who were asking him for help. He returned to his chair, and softened his voice slightly, "How DO you know about _CI_, Mr. Hoskins?"

"You were touted by one of my London solicitors. 'e said you were one's who always get your man."

Chuck did not smile on the outside, but inside he was glowing. _Wow! They know about us all the way over in London. How cool is that? _"Okay, Mr. Hoskins, I can not guarantee we will take your case, but tell me what you need so I can see if we can help you." In his heart, though, Chuck already knew he couldn't turn down this gentleman from another land.

"Well, I'm looking for someone. You see, I run a private gaming establishment in London, and a few days ago 'e was in my club where 'e won big. But I didn't 'ave the funds on hand to pay 'im. So now 'e's going around telling people I'm a welcher; in my business, you see, I can't 'ave no one calling me a welcher. I just want to find 'im so I can see that 'e gets what's coming to 'im."

"What makes you think he's in LA, Mr. Hoskins?"

"Well, you see now, in my line of business, it pays to 'ave contacts all over. Some of those associates told me 'e's 'eaded 'ere."

"Do you have a description of the man?"

"60's … thick, silver hair … maybe uses a hearing aid … lives 'igh on the 'og, 'e does: fine restaurants, the best 'otels, turf club at the track … that sort of thing."

"Okay, good. And what is the name of this man?"

"He was passing 'imself off as a Simon Franko. But I know his real name now: it's Burton … Jack Burton."

Chuck sat up quickly, "Wha … Who…?" As he tried to get these words out his diaphragm spasmed, effectively closing off his throat. Trying to swallow a sudden influx of saliva, the constriction in his throat caused him to gag. All these contrary muscle movements combined, effectively choking him, and sending him into a body-racking coughing fit. His face reddened, while fighting for air, but his breaths were short and ragged, which just seemed to intensify the problem.

Hoskins looked on in concern, and started to stand: "Are you okay? Should I call your assistant?"

Chuck waved at him to sit back down ... that he was okay ... but he was still coughing and unable to speak. As the coughing began to subside, he was finally able to take in a better breath. He grabbed the water bottle, dropped it, then fumbled it some more, while trying to twist off the cap. Once he was able to get it open he took a drink, letting the liquid slide down his throat, clearing it of the saliva and mucus caught there. Sagging back into his chair, he continued working to clear his throat, while reaching into his desk drawer and pulling out a tissue. First he wiped his eyes, and then blew his nose; he was quite a mess by this time. He breathed deeply and blew out a couple of cleansing breaths. _Is this what emphysema is like? If so, I'm sure glad I never took up smoking!_

Now that his breathing was coming back to normal, Chuck picked up his desk phone and punched one button: "Ms. Thompkins, get Mrs. Carmichael on the phone … NOW!"

**Scene 5:  
****February 21, 2013  
****3:50 pm  
****Bob Hope Airport**

After her dad's call on Saturday, Sarah had driven home in a quandary: _What's this all about … how could he be in so much trouble … why did he call me … doesn't he know Chuck and I are married … that honesty, even though we haven't always practiced it in the past, is the most important thing in a relationship … can I really put Chuck on the firing line once again?_ These thoughts, and more, throbbed through her head.

Finally, as she parked, outside their Echo Park apartment, she decided not to say anything until her Dad called again. Once he gave her more information, then she would tell Chuck everything. It still didn't set well with her, but she didn't want Chuck spiraling out of control, at least until they knew exactly what was going on.

Over the next couple of days Chuck kept asked her what was bothering her; she seemed awfully quiet, and a bit distant. It was disconcerting to him, knowing this behavior all too well. She was able to smile, and assure him all was well; but it was obvious to her, when he returned her smile with his boyish grin, it wasn't reaching his eyes.

Jack called on Wednesday to tell her he would be arriving at Bob Hope Airport on Thursday, around 4:00 pm. He asked her to rent a limousine and meet him at hangar 17-30B, on the north side of the airport.

She had been waiting, inside the limo, for about ten minutes, when her phone rang. It was the _CI_ number. She knew that Morgan was out of the office today so it had to be Chuck calling. _But that's weird … if it was Chuck, why isn't he just using his own phone?_

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mrs. Carmichael, this is Rita. Your husband asked me to get you on the phone."

"I'm sorry, Rita, I can't speak to him right now."

"Uh, Mrs. Carmichael, he is standing right here…" she turned away from him and whispered, "... and I think there is actually steam coming out of his ears."

_Uh oh!_ "Okay Rita, put him on." Sarah jumped out of the car, hoping the noise from the various aircraft in the area would drown her out.

"Sarah, where are you? What are you doing?"

Partially covering the phone, her mouth, and nose, with her hand, she shouted back into the phone, "Chuck, is that you? I'm sorry, honey, I can't hear you."

"What's all that noise, Sarah? It sounds like you're at the airport. Sarah…?"

"I'm stuck in construction traffic, hon. Too much noise … can't really talk right now. They're saying we'll be tied up in this traffic for hours; looks like I won't be home until about 8:00."

"Sarah … Sarah … wa-wa-wait … don't hang up." His final words trailed off as he knew she had already broken the connection. "Now just what is she up to?"

Sarah grimaced: she really hated lying to Chuck like that. _Damn, I'm really going to have to make this up to him._ She watched as a Learjet 45XR taxied to a stop near the hangar doors. As the steps were lowered, she walked over to meet the two men exiting the plane.

"How was your flight, sir." Looking the part of a corporate personal assistant, dressed in a navy blue jacket and matching knee-length skirt, and a silver, silk blouse, she addressed the very distinguished looking older man, dressed in an expensive suit, and carrying a walking stick.

"Bumpy."

"We ran into turbulence over the Rockies." The second man, obviously a sales representative for the aircraft company, was quite nervous. He handed off the briefcase and suitcase that he was carrying, to the limo driver. His eyes, however, never left Sarah.

The first man shook his head once again, "Noisy."

Again, the sales rep spoke up, "Sir, that jet takes off at only 71 decibels."

"Mr. Franko is a quiet man; he can't abide a raucous plane." Sarah inserted herself between her 'employer' and the salesman; the proximity of this ravishing beauty completely overwhelming him.

"Miss Applebaum, do you think the Board of Directors would approve my buying a private jet?"

"Mr. Franko, you ARE the board of directors." 'Ms. Applebaum' and 'Mr. Franko' both chuckled, while the salesman continued to look nonplussed.

"True ... I am." Addressing the salesman, he continued, "Give your card to Miss Applebaum here. I will firm up my decision by the first of next week."

The sales rep handed Sarah his card and whispered, in a conspiratorial voice, "You don't think he's kidding do you? We've been flying for five days; the fuel costs alone are astronomical."

"Would Mr. Franko have spent all this time talking to you, if he wasn't serious?"

Intense blue eyes impacted on the man's senses as he replied, "I don't know."

"I do. Good day." And with that, Sarah followed her dad into the limo and closed the door.

As the salesman walked back towards the plane, and the limousine pulled away, they both broke into laughter. After tearing the man's business card in two and dropping the pieces to the floor, Sarah reached into the limousine's bar and pulled out two glasses of wine, saying, "To the Chairman of the Board…."

"...and his faithful aide." They clinked glasses and took a sip.

"So dad … how long will you be here?"

"Just until I'm dead."

The comment hung there as Sarah gulped hard, and looked at her dad with confusion and concern.

**A/N2:** I hope this had wet your whistle for more. I will not be posting practically every day like it did with the last story. First of all, there aren't going to be that many chapters to this one. Plus, this one is far from done. I haven't tried posting chapters before the whole thing was done so I hope I don't screw this up. Please review as I love to hear from you. It is encouraging and inspiring.


	2. 2 Playing Darts

**A/N:** Mea Culpa! Okay, I get it. Sorry to start this little tale out with Sarah keeping secrets. I just thought it would be important to see how Jack Burton still clouds her judgement. But it was never meant to go on long so I hope you are still all with me on this one.

Thanks to all who reviewed. As I always try to respond to those who review, I need to say a big thanks to all the "guest" reviewers that I couldn't thank directly. Despite the above complaint everyone has been very complimentary and I really appreciate that. Even the questions raised were appreciated and taken into consideration.

I forgot to make apologies in the first chapter to any/all readers from Great Britain for the poor representation of Hoskins' accent.

All mistakes are mine.

Don't own anything to do with _Chuck_ or _Remington Steele_. Just know this is done with all due respect.

**2. Playing Darts**

**Scene 6:  
****February 21, 2013  
****3:55 pm  
**_**Carmichael Industries**_

Chuck stood by the reception desk for several minutes after hanging up, staring blankly into space, while his hands, tensed into fists, pounded on the counter top rhythmically. Rita was trying not to stare, but his face had turned very red, and was screwed up into a pained expression. _What is she doing? We can't return to this pattern … we wasted too much time not talking. Dammit!_

"Rita," Chuck spoke through gritted teeth, "I'm going to the lab and will not be available for the rest of the day. Is anything important still on the docket?"

"No, sir. We are clear for today and nothing on for tomorrow, either."

"Okay." He paused to look around the room again. "You can wrap up whatever you are working on, and then take off. Please lock up when you leave." Chuck turned and walked away.

Rita watched him until he moved into his office, out of sight. In her short time at _CI_ she had not seen the Carmichael's fight; in fact, she had rarely even seen them apart. _And boy, when they are together … WOW! The sparks really fly!_ She found herself fanning herself just thinking about the heat they generated. It only took a few minutes for her to close down her computer, shut off the lights and exit. She would, however, worry about her new bosses for the rest of the evening.

Chuck shut down his office computer before walking upstairs to the main computer lab. He was on a mission now … focused and intense.

Using GPS, he quickly found Sarah's Lotus: it was at the _Maison 23_ _Apartments_, her old apartment building. _Now why would she be there? She must be running an op … but for (or on) whom…?_ It took him a bit longer to find, and hack into, a security camera looking down on the apartment building's front entrance and main parking area. He ran the video back, and at 2:12 pm, he saw her drive in and park. She was only inside the building a short time before a black limousine drove up: she came out, jumped in the back, and the car pulled away. _What the hell?_

He hacked in a little deeper so he could put an alarm on that security camera. Now, any cars pulling up to the entrance would trigger the alarm, and he would be able to check out the live feed. Once that was accomplished, he began tracking the limousine: it was fairly easy, using traffic cams, as it traveled through the city. The videos could be run at high speed, so the trip, which took Sarah over ninety minutes, only took him about ten. He watched the limo as it entered BHA, traveled through a security checkpoint, and out onto the tarmac. He lost visual from the street level cams and knew he would have to hack into the airport security; that would be a little bit harder.

It didn't matter though, because just as he was starting the hack, the alarm from _Maison 23_ sounded. He switched the monitor over to building security and saw a limo pull up to the entrance. The driver jumped out, retrieved a couple of bags from the trunk, and then opened the right side rear door. Sarah came out first, followed by a man … an older man. Something looked familiar: Chuck zoomed in on the man and then, using a new image enhancing app he had just finished designing, sharpened the image until … _Oh my God! What's HE doing here?_

Chuck didn't even take time to shut down the computers, but ran out of the lab, heading to his car. The face of Jack Burton remained frozen on the monitor.

**Scene 7:  
****February 21, 2013  
****8:10 pm  
**_**Maison 23 Apartments**_**, Room #832**

Sarah and her dad were sitting on the sofa, snacks and beer on the coffee table, in front of them.

"You seem really happy, Sarah. Are your memories still coming back?"

"My memories are, more or less, all back. There are still a few holes, but … well, they just don't matter to me anymore. I know who I became during those five years, and I am happy to continue growing, with my family and my Chuck. If I get them all back, fine; but more importantly, Chuck and I are making new ones now!"

"So how is the schnook … er, I mean, Charlie? Have his injuries all healed?"

"CHUCK is perfect, dad. He has recovered nicely, thank you, and we are starting to train together again." The joy in her smile was quite obvious to her highly observant father. "Although, I'm afraid keeping your secret this week has put a bit of a strain on us. I can't keep this a secret much longer; he needs to know. I know now that honesty really is the best policy between husband and wife."

"I know, darlin' ..." There was a sincere sounding sadness in his voice; of course, he was a practiced conman, so Sarah wasn't sure how much to believe. "… afraid I never managed to put that into practice with your mom, however." This last comment caught her completely off guard. She looked at him, hoping there would be more to come, but he just stared into his beer can, as he spun it around in his hands.

Not knowing what to say, she continued to look at her dad until he looked back up at her, and smiled, "You've really done well for yourself, darlin'. First, as a CIA operative, then falling in love ... marriage ... owning your own business … all with Charlie."

"Much of it is due to your teaching, dad." A warmth spread through Sarah as she said this; an unusual, and unexpected, feeling, towards her dad. She had loved him as a young girl, but then had come to … well, not really hate him, but close … know the disappointments he brought her through the years. "I would never have made it into the CIA without all that you taught me."

Jack moved over to the windows, trying to find the right words to say to his daughter, whom he barely knew. He turned back to her, shaking his head, "Oh ... I think this is a case of the pupil far outshining the teacher. You've risen above and beyond anything I could have given you." He looked down at the floor and out the window again. "And you really enjoy all this?"

"I love Chuck with all my heart; it's great having a family and friends who care about me; and I find I really like helping others. I've never known anything like it; but it all feels so right."

"I can see it written all over you. It was obvious, even back when I first met Charlie. Even though I thought you two were running a con … which, I guess, in a way you were … I could tell you were in love with each other."

Sarah blushed, realizing he had seen through all her disguises. "So, dad, tell me all about this problem of yours."

Jack cleared his throat before saying, "Do you remember 'The Major'? We worked with him once, back in Savannah, Georgia."

"Sure. Nice man. How is he?"

"Dead … very dead." Sarah gasped, then stopped moving and stared at him. "His health had been failing, so he wanted one last, big score to finance his retirement to the south of France. He had procured some piece of technology … you know I don't understand, or trust, any of that stuff ... that would guarantee winning at the roulette wheel."

"Dad? Gambling? That's not your usual style. 'Poor man's folly' … isn't that what you always called it?"

"Right you are. But it was his con and I owed him a favor. We selected a particularly loathsome character by the name of Hoskins. He owns the crookedest casino in London. Long story short: we took him for nearly £500,000."

Sarah's mouth dropped open as eyebrows shot up; she had to swallow hard before taking a big breath. "Wow! Dad, that's more than $750,000."

"Yeah, well ... the fox gets wiser; but also slower: the Major missed getting out of the casino by a step. I don't blame him, but he gave up my name ... well, actually, my Simon Franko name. Now Hoskins is after me." There was a short pause before he continued: "And with your help, he will find me."

**Meanwhile…**

Chuck set a new land speed record getting to _Maison 23_, parked haphazardly, and raced into the building. He almost ran over the night clerk, Burt, who recognized him immediately, "Hey, Mr. Bartowski, how are you? So nice to see the missus again; she's sure looking great … as usual."

"Hey, Burt. How you doing? And remember: it's Chuck."

Burt would have replied, but Chuck was already in the elevator and the doors were closing. _Ah, young love ... I guess not everything has changed. _ Burt just smiled and shook his head.

Chuck's emotions were all over the place. He was mad that Sarah was holding out on him again. But he was also glad her dad was in town; he had always hoped they could reconnect more. On the other hand, if he was in town, he was probably pulling some con, and he didn't want his wife involved in that again. He tried to slow his breathing as he paced around the small interior of the elevator, but it just wasn't working. The doors opened at the eighth floor, and he got out, clutching his chest, his heart hammering away. Sitting down on the little bench along the opposite wall, he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. _Oh Sarah, what are you doing?_ Finally, using one of Devon's calming exercises, he felt himself relaxing a little, so he stood, and walked to the green door of apartment #832, a sense of déjà vu welling up and flowing through his whole being.

**Room 832…**

Someone pounded on the door, startling both Sarah and Jack. "Now who could that be?"

Sarah moved to the door, and was shocked to see Chuck standing outside. She pulled open the door, leaned against it, just as she used to do, and spoke softly, "Hi, Chuck."

"Sarah. Oh, Sarah." Chuck moved to her and pulled her into an embrace. Then he pushed her away and frowned, "Now, what the hell is going on?" Before she could answer, he pushed past her and on into the room.

"Schnook … er, Charlie. Nice to see you again, son." Jack Burton extended his hand, but Chuck did not take it. They just stood there, staring at each other. Gradually Jack let his hand drop back down to his side, realizing Chuck was more than a little upset.

Sarah moved to Chuck and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Okay, Chuck, you deserve an answer. Let's all sit down and figure this thing out."

Chuck moved to the chair opposite the sofa and sat down, crossing his arms. Sarah and her dad sat together, on the sofa, and began the tale again.

"So, Charlie, we were going to use you to work Hoskins' side. We … no, I … thought it would be better if you didn't know what was going on. You have to be able to play your part perfectly, or Hoskins will see right through you. It would be easier for you, if you really thought you were looking for Simon Franko."

"Well," Chuck replied with not a little petulance, "he seems to be way ahead of you: he knows that's an alias ... and that your real name is Jack Burton."

"WHAT? How is that possible?"

"It's water under the bridge now." Chuck's anger, and disappointment, were obvious and he needed to know one more thing. "But tell me: why did he come to _Carmichael Industries_?"

Jack shrugged, "A solicitor, who works for Hoskins, owed me a favor. I had him give Hoskins your name and number."

"Why not let us both work for him through _CI_?"

"Ah, darlin', I need you for an entirely different role. You must never let him see you as Sarah Walker/Bartowski/Carmichael."

"Okay, so what's the plan?" Sarah and Chuck spoke together, smiling at one another for the first time since he arrived.

**Scene 8:  
****February 22, 2013  
****1:45 am  
****Echo Park**

The trio talked until after midnight, working on the plan. It was tricky but all three finally felt confident they could pull it off.

With both cars at the apartment building, Chuck and Sarah had to drive home separately. They had ridden down in the elevator and walked to the cars holding hands; a sense of comfort between them, but with a hint of tension just below of the surface. But they did not speak. Lingering at the Lotus, they faced each other, hands still clasped, staring deeply into each others' eyes, each knowing they had to resolve this disagreement before sleep would come. Finally, Chuck lifted her hand to his lips and gently placed a kiss there; his eyes never leaving her's. "See you at home, babe."

His use of one of his pet names for her gave her a moment of relief as she lifted one hand to caress his cheek. She dropped her eyes to his lips as they lingered on her hand. "Drive safely, my Chuck," was her whispered response.

Being apart during the drive gave them a little space, but no peace of mind: their brains were working in overdrive the whole way home. _... have to move forward; what to say; how to do that; how can I hurt this man; have to forgive and move on ..._ All these thoughts, and more, echoed through both their minds.

Sarah arrived first, of course, and she immediately went to the bedroom to change into her night clothes. Knowing they were going to be up awhile, she pulled on a short robe over her tank top and boy shorts. She looked at herself in the mirror, thinking that she could put on something very different and seduce Chuck into not talking tonight; actually, she could do it just with what she was already wearing. But that wasn't the honest way to do things, and wouldn't resolve the problem, or even put her own mind as ease. Moving into the bathroom, she felt a sense of calm come over her, now that she was determined to make things right ... and do it tonight.

Chuck walked in just as she came out of the bathroom. "Chuck, I…."

"Shhhh. Stop, Sarah." A chill shot threw her, the fear of rejection by this man, that she did so love, made her shiver. Chuck, however, beckoned her to him, saying, "Come here," and he enveloped her in his long arms.

Chuck was relieved when he saw her coming out of the bathroom. He had been afraid she might try to seduce him into not talking. Actually, he had thought about doing the same to her, although he never won that game when they did it at the same time. Of course, his heart rate shot up the moment he saw her in the tank top and boy shorts, and his mind instantly shot back to Barstow; the short robe she wore even heightened the effect she was having on him. But he saw the pain on her face and knew they had to talk.

She melted into him, pulling him to her tightly. Into his chest she whispered, "I am so sorry. I did this all wrong."

Chuck just squeezed her harder and ran a hand through her golden locks. "Shhhh. Let's not talk just yet." They stood in the hallway, just holding one another.

After a few moments, he pulled away. "Sweetie, why don't you make us some coffee while I get done in the bathroom. Then we can talk."

He smiled his small, crooked smile, the one that melted her heart, despite the fact that it also showed he was not completely happy with her. Oh, how it hurt, to see him in pain ... pain that was entirely her fault. _When am I ever going to learn to just be completely open with him? He's saved me how many times now? He always comes for me … believes in me ... fights for me ... yes, he saved me! _

She had just taken their mugs into the living room when he returned, dressed in a t-shirt and jammy pants. She couldn't help smiling at how cute he always looked, dressed this way. He sat down at the end of the sofa, and she handed him his mug. Then, snuggling in, she sat with her back against his chest. They sat quietly for several minutes, sipping their coffee: he, stroking her hair; she, running her hand slowly along the length of his thigh. Gradually, each could feel the other beginning to relax; to feel the intimacy, that had been missing the past few days, begin to flow once again.

"Sarah, your dad asked you not to tell me, didn't he?"

She hesitated, swallowed, and then, in a small, little girl-like voice, simply replied, "Yes."

"And that's what's been bothering you all week, isn't it?"

Even smaller: "Yes."

Chuck heard the voice she was using and knew it was not an effect, but her way of showing how sorry she was. "I was really, really mad this afternoon, when I discovered your dad was here, and you seemed to be helping him run something. I'm sorry, hon, but I know that's who he is … and I just can't completely trust him."

"You have every right to be mad at me … still. I don't think either one of us will ever trust him. Apparently you can't really trust me, either."

"I guess I now know how you felt, when I went looking for my mom, and then seemed to always choose her over you. And as far as your dad goes: it's okay to help him out. You know I will always do whatever it takes for family. As long as WE always trust each other, first and foremost."

"Honey, you are my husband and I love you so much. I don't know why I can't be totally open with you all the time ... whether it's my dad, or anyone else." Chuck could tell Sarah was choking up as the quality of her voice changed; he knew, without looking, that there were tears forming in her eyes. "I-I h-hated … every minute that ...that I was h-holding this … back from you. And yet…."

"And that, my dear Sarah, is a great step in the right direction. We'll both just have to keep working at this ... and helping each other." He squeezed her tightly and she reached over to spin his wedding ring around his finger. He kissed the back of her head, reveling in the smell of her hair …_ beautiful, blonde hair_. Turning her head, she gently kissed the line of his jaw … _strong, handsome face._

Chuck reached around and took the coffee mug from her. He set it, along with his own, on the end table next to the sofa. Sarah turned so she was now lying back, across his lap, her eyes seeking out his, like a heat-seeking missile to a jet engine. Tears were indeed glistening in her eyes, making his heart break ever so slightly. Gently wiping the single wet trail from her left cheek with his thumb, he gave her one of his special For-Sarah-Only smiles. _My beautiful, beautiful Sarah._

_I do not deserve this oh so special man; I'm going to love him forever._ She felt her heart beating harder, her breathing becoming shallower and more rapid. The smile on her face was a reflection of his ... the one she only gave to him … as it grew in intensity, the electricity between them sending a charge rippling through them both.

Bringing his right hand to her waist, he began to undo the sash on her robe, as she cupped his cheek with her left hand, her fingers running around his ear and down the side of his neck. Leaning down, he brought his lips to within mere millimeters of hers before stopping, their breath intermingling, the faint scent of coffee filling the space between them. They held this position … and held it ... and held it … while their mutual longings grew from a smolder to a blazing inferno. And then finally ... after what seemed forever … their lips came together, mouths open, tongues frantic in their search for one another.

She turned into him so she could run her left hand down Chuck's chest, before pulling on the string tie on his pajama bottoms. She loved the feel of him: he had added a lot of muscle over the years and she feel them ripple under her hand, knowing that he was also terribly ticklish. He broke from their kiss to inhale deeply as she teased and aroused him with her touch.

Before breaking the kiss, he had opened her robe and now he brought his hand gently upward, lingering as he moved across the full rise of her breast, causing her toes to curl. It still amazed him that a woman this beautiful would ever consider lying in his arms, showing her desire for his touch by her matching strokes. Sarah pulled his head down to her's again, eliciting a moan, the deep vibration further stimulating and encouraging her.

They never made it to the bedroom. Lying together, panting from their exertions, Chuck had pulled the afghan from the back of the sofa over them, and they quickly fell into a contented sleep.

**Scene 9:  
****February 22, 2013  
****8:30 pm  
**_**Ye Olde King's Head**_

Hoskins had to use Friday to get the jet lag out of his system. He hadn't thought it would be a problem, but it hit him when the morning sunshine woke him, but he was hungry for supper. _I'm getting too old for all this traipsing around the world_. After getting breakfast from room service, he dozed, in between trying to find something decent on the television. It was discouraging drudgery until he finally found a soccer match on _ESPN_. The clock crawled ever so slowly around to evening, when hunger forced him to once again go to the hotel's restaurant, for yet another bland American meal. Afterwards, he asked the clerk at the front desk if there was a decent English pub anywhere nearby. A computer search turned up a couple, and the clerk offered to get him a taxi, to which he agreed.

The trip took 35 minutes and cost a ridiculous amount, even by London standards. "This place better be good," he muttered to himself as he entered _Ye Olde King's Head Pub_; instantly, he felt at home. Whoever owned this establishment was either an Englishman himself, or had really done his research. The interior was dark and moody, with a long bar, and several tables, all looking like they had been in use since Queen Victoria's day. All the voices he heard had various forms of English accents, and there were several different arguments going on about soccer. To top it all off: the beer was just the right temperature.

He chatted a bit with bartender and then walked around, looking at all the pictures and memorabilia; if he didn't know better he would think he was just down the street from his own establishment on Piccadilly.A big smile actually came to his face when, at the back of the room, he discovered a little alcove, with a dart board on the far wall.

He called out to the other patrons, to see if anyone wanted a game, but no one seemed interested. So he called for a refill on his beer, and then took a small leather case from his inside pocket. Pulling the zipper, he opened the case, and pulled out three, yellow darts. There was nothing better than losing one's self in the calming space between the round board on the wall and the tip of a well-honed dart.

He had been quite a hustler in his day, and could still nail the center spot nine out of ten times, but it had been some time since he last had time to play. He had been playing about fifteen minutes when a series of catcalls and whistles came from the front of the pub. Peering around the corner he saw a distinguished looking gent walking along the bar, pointing at the bartender.

But that was not what had caused the whistles: with the man was an absolutely stunning young woman: tall and shapely, with spiked heels making her even taller, she wore a dark gray pant suit and white blouse, open far enough to draw all the mens' eyes to her ample curves. Red lipstick, dark eyes like black pools, and long, black hair topped off the vision. Hoskins took several deep breaths while continuing to stare … no: leer ... at her. She was mesmerizingly beautiful.

Before entering the pub, Jack and Sarah had looked through the front window. "The man throwing darts, in the back, is Hoskins. He hates Americans, is fanatic about soccer, especially _Manchester United_, and never gambles, except occasionally on darts. The bartender's name is Reilly, and is one of us; he knows what to do."

"Okay; let's do this," was Sarah's only response, her spy face very evident on her features.

Now, Reilly was standing in front of the two of them, just a few steps away from the back alcove, looking like he wished he could somehow shrink down and run away like a mouse. Even though Hoskins was back to throwing his darts, he could hear everything that was being said, and he was keeping an eye on the proceedings … and the woman, too.

"Hello, Reilly; it's collection day." Hoskins' head swiveled around in surprise as Sarah spoke with a beguiling English accent.

"Oh, uh, hello, missy. Uh, I'm a little light ... it's been a slow we..."

Suddenly, this vision of a woman moved with the speed of lightning, pinning Reilly up against the wall, one hand on his throat. She punched him in the side of the head a couple of times, with two fingers of her other hand, as her face turned into a snarl. The transformation was complete when her voice took on a hard quality: "And no wonder; I mean, anyone who takes _Leeds_ over _Man United_ deserves to be bust." She was inches from his face now, seemingly ready to rip poor Reilly in two.

Hoskins stopped throwing, and turned to face the pair, "You a Manchester fan, lady?"

Leaning over Reilly, she turned slightly towards Hoskins, causing her blouse to fall further open, revealing even more of her lovely assets. "Yeah," she growled at him, without letting go of the bartender. "It runs in the family: my uncle used to play."

Hoskins rarely became distracted when talking soccer, but his eyes were glued firmly on her chest. "Wh-What's your uncle's name?"

"Gary Bailey." She turned back to Reilly before letting him go and straightening up, towering over the cowering barman.

"Gary Bailey … Lord, he was one of the greatest goalkeepers in the _Premier Division_." Hoskins shook his head, attempting to get his mind back on his now second favorite topic.

"Let's move it, Jamie; you know how these Limeys give me the creeps."

"On your bike, mate; we're discussin' the Manchester team." Hoskins' face turned red as he spit out the words.

Reilly leaned in to Jack and said, "Mr. Tucker, I'll bring the money around first thing in the morning."

"I'll be waiting," was Mr. Tucker's cold reply, his eyes never leaving Hoskins' face. 'Jamie' pulled him away from 'Tucker' and quickly escorted him back to the bar.

Tucker stood, picked up three blue darts off a nearby table, and spoke as he walked over to the oche, "I've got a theory why you Limeys are so batty about soccer" … he paused long enough for Hoskins to bristle with anger … "it gives you a chance to watch all those young boys run around in those short pants." He finished with a laugh.

As he was speaking, Jamie returned, moving to stand next to Hoskins. Hoskins looked at her and asked, "Who the 'ell is that?"

"My boss ... Jake Tucker."

"You got a ugly mouth, Mr. Tucker."

Tucker smirked at him and threw his three darts: One - Two - Three … every one sticking right in the center circle. He smirked again and walked away. "No wonder you lost your empire; you Limeys are born losers."

Hoskins was completely hooked: the insults had him seeing red, and he certainly wasn't going to back down from this Yank. As Jamie ran to the board to take down the blue darts, he moved to the line and threw his yellow darts: now it was his turn to laugh, as all three of his darts stuck in the center circle as well. "Let me know when you get bored ... _Yank_!" The final word was uttered with anger and contempt, as he stared Tucker down.

Tucker stared back, saying coldly, "A thousand says you can't make it four in a row."

"Gambling's for silly sods like Reilly over there."

"That's the British for you … as soon as they have to back up their bluster, they hide under the sheets."

Hoskins' jaw worked, clenching and unclenching. Then: "A thousand it is!"

"Get the darts, Jamie."

"Yes, sir." She ran to the board, took out the darts, and with a slight of hand, placed a hard, red disk over the center circle; it was invisible without being right up at the board. She turned, gave the darts back to Hoskins, and scurried out of the way.

With a smile, Hoskins threw the dart right into the center circle, and watched, with dismay and disbelief, as it stuck momentarily, then sagged and fell to the floor. His face fell with it.

"Sorry about that, Limey." The sarcasm … not to mention a really bad English accent … in the statement dripped with animosity.

"I-I ain't got enough scratch on me."

"I'll send Jamie around in the morning. Just make sure it's in good old, American green."

Both Tucker and Bailey laughed as they turned to go. Jamie looked over her shoulder, and with a wave and a lilt in her voice, said, "See you in the morning, Mr. Hoskins!"

Hoskins slammed the remaining darts to the floor in disgust. All he could think about was their laughter … at his expense ... and his own gullibility for getting suckered into the bet.


	3. 3 Setting the Hook

**A/N1:** The very kind reviews continue to come in and let me say thank you so much.

I hope it isn't a bad omen to be posting on the Ides of March. At least I can say Happy Birthday to my wonderful daughter, who is the one who should really be writing this.

Don't own anything to do with anything you may read hereafter.

**3. Setting the Hook**

**Scene 10:  
****February 23, 2013  
****9:00 am  
**_**Embassy Suite Hotel**_**, Room 744**

Despite the lack of sleep, Chuck called Hoskins early Saturday morning to tell him he was on his way over to report his findings. When he arrived, it was obvious Hoskins was in a foul mood: he opened the door, turned without a word, and walked back into the room. In only pants and an undershirt, he dropped to floor and began doing pushups. Chuck watched him for a moment: _in pretty good shape for an old guy ... have to watch out for him._

"Well, Mr. Hoskins, I wanted to let you know what we have found. Unfortunately, it isn't much as yet. It's going to take a little longer to find Mr. Burton than I originally thought."

"Get on with it; tell me what do you know?"

"It's obvious he doesn't want to be found. Although he registered at the _Hilton Checkers_ _Hotel_ several days ago, his room has not been lived in. Nor has anyone seen him. He has been there at some point however, because he made a dozen calls, using the room phone. I had hoped he would use a cell phone so we could track the GPS, but he's being too careful for that."

Hoskins stood and grabbed his shirt angrily. "Who did he call?"

"He's made eight calls to yacht dealers, three to gambling equipment suppliers, and one to an upholsterer. It appears he is working on setting up some sort of gambling operation."

"I don't care about any of that; I just want Burton. You're suppose to be the best. Now get on those fancy computers of yours ... what I'm paying you for ... and find 'im! Oh, and by the way, don't tell Jacky-boy I'm here; I want to see his face when I pay him off."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Hoskins. Don't worry, we're going to find him."

"Do it! And right away; I'm not going to spend any more time in this retched city than I have to. Now, get out!"

**Scene 11:  
****February 23, 2013  
****9:20 am  
**_**Embassy Suite Hotel**_**, Room 417**

Chuck took the elevator to the fourth floor and walked down the hall to Room 417. A smile grew on his face, because Sarah was waiting for him there. When he entered, she was sitting at the room's table, staring out the window, a small cup of yogurt in front of her, untouched. When he entered, she turned towards him and smiled, causing him to stumble slightly. _My nerd … so adorable._ She laughed, hiding her mouth behind her hand.

_She is so adorable, when she does that ..._ _God, how I love this woman!_

Arriving at the table, Chuck leaned over and gave her a simple smooch on the lips; her fingers traced around his ear, keeping him from pulling away too quickly. He moaned slightly, and she hummed back at him. Having already put on her black wig and dark contacts, he really missed being able to look deeply into her azure orbs, causing a sigh to come from his soul.

"How did it go?"

"Oh, he's wound tight as a drum. You two must have done quite a number on him last night."

"Dad can have that effect on people."

"Uh, sweetie: I saw what you were wearing. I'm not so sure it was your dad doing the number on him. You ready for your next part?"

Sarah blushed at his compliment. _How does he continually do this to me?_ "Yeah. I still have to change into 'Jamie'. Guess I better get moving."

"May I stay and watch?"

"You can help, if you think we can stay on mission."

"Uh ... oh ... hmmmmm … m-m-maybe that's … uh … not a good idea. Wouldn't want you to be late."

Chuck waited while Sarah worked on her makeup in the bathroom, absentmindedly grabbing the yogurt. He was just bringing the spoon up to his mouth as she walked out, but it never made it to his mouth. Wearing only her underwear, she heard Chuck emit a low whistle. Looking at him, she could see his eyes darken and narrow, and knew exactly what she was doing to him. _Going to have to make this up to him later ... mmmmm … that's a happy thought!_

Opening her bag, she pulled out a top and pants. Chuck's breathing hitched, and almost stopped, as he watched her: she pulled on a pair of tight, red leather pants, and a yellow, flowery top that left her midriff bare. A pair of red, five inch heel, pumps finished the ensemble. A final accessory was tucked into a small pouch, attached to her bra near her left shoulder.

As she finished dressing, Chuck awkwardly moved to stand in front of her and pulled her up and into his arms. "Sarah…." He whispered her name before bringing his lips to hers.

When their lips parted she echoed him with, "Chuck…," whispered directly into his ear, her breath tickling his every sense.

They stood together, hands drifting over each other lightly, for several seconds. Finally, Chuck shook himself, and let her go. "Uh … y-you think maybe … well … uh … that you could … mmmmm … have 'Jamie' come visit ... sometime soon?"

Sarah laughed at his red face and embarrassed speech before replying, "Yeah, Chuck. I think I can arrange that."

They both took a couple deep breaths and gently kissed once again. "Right. Okay. Honey, you get back to _CI_, and I will meet you there as soon as I finish up here." She kissed him one more time, before going back in the bathroom to fix her lipstick. As he departed, Chuck's smile was exponentially bigger than when he arrived.

**Room 744….**

It was a few minutes before 10:00 when 'Jamie' knocked on Hoskins' door. He opened the door a couple inches, shoved an envelope into her hand, and growled, "There."

Sticking a foot in the door as he tried to close it, Sarah spoke rapidly, "Wait ... Mr. Hoskins! I need to talk to you: Mr. Tucker cheated you."

Hoskins threw open the door, pulled her inside, and slammed the door closed. Yanking on her arm, he threw her onto the bed and moved to tower over her. His eyes ran up and down her body, while he kept her pinned to the bed. "Listen lady, you've got a pretty face, long legs, and a tight bum. But otherwise, I don't 'ave any use for you." His eyes lustfully roamed across her again. "Now, why are you telling me this?"

"Get off me, you oaf!" As he backed off a little, she reached inside her blouse, near her shoulder, and pulled out her knife from its hidden pouch. It snapped open menacingly, locking into position.

Hoskins quickly stepped back further, holding his hands up in in front of him. "Whoa, lady. Just settle down now."

Brandishing the knife, she stood quickly. "I'm used to the stares, old man, but only I decide who touches me!"

"Okay, okay. I get it. Now, about Tucker…."

"I just thought you would like to take him down a peg or two … and so would I." She closed the knife, returned it to its hiding place, straightened her top, and ran a hand through her hair.

"Why?"

"The short version is, I placed a bet I couldn't afford to lose. So now I'm working off the debt as his collector. I have some, uh … special skills … that he can use on his marks."

"I saw a little of that last night ... and just now. So, what are you talking about 'ere?"

"Tucker runs a sports book, taking bets on events from all over the world. I can get the results first, so I know the winner when I place the bet."

"So, what do you need me for?"

"I need someone to place the bet."

"How much are you putting in?"

"Four thousand dollars." Hoskins scoffed at the amount, but she continued, "At thirty to one? That's $120,000."

"Show me how it works."

"Are you in?"

"No ... I'm just curious what your game is."

**Scene 12:  
****February 22, 2013 **_… flashback  
_**8:30 pm  
**_**Castle**_

After Sarah and Jack had left to meet Hoskins at the pub, Chuck called Morgan: "Hey, buddy, how ya doin'? I've missed you here at the office."

"Charles, my man! Am I glad to hear from you. Alex is at some cosmetic party at her Mom's and I'm sitting here all alone."

"And you didn't want to go with her to the party?" Hearing Morgan snort on the other end, Chuck laughed, "Sorry, sorry, sorry ... just kidding. Actually, I need help with a little project and was wondering if you were available?"

"Absolutely! I was just thinking we haven't had a good _Call of Duty_ tourney in a long time. I'll be right over."

"Whoa-whoa-whoa … this isn't a gaming project. Can you meet me behind the old _Orange Orange_ building, say in thirty minutes?

Morgan was caught off guard by this request, but, it was his best friend after all, and Chuck's projects were never dull. "Oh, okay. Sure, I'll be there asap."

Chuck was coming out the door as Morgan pulled up, "Buddy, what the heck are you doing?"

"We need to get _Castle_ back up and running."

"What? After all the work we did at _CI_, you're coming back here?"

"Come on, I've got five more boxes to move downstairs. As soon as we get them all down there, I'll fill you in."

"I didn't even know we could still get in here."

"Yeah, well, this is a one time deal. And it's okay if things are in a mess and looks low budget. Oh, one other thing: we need you to play a small part in a sting we've got going. Are you up for it?"

"Oh, wow, Chuck. Yes, yes, yes! I've always wanted to pull a sting on someone … well, besides all those times we did it to Jeff and Lester. I'm in!"

**Scene 13:  
****February 23, 2013 **_… the present  
_**12 Noon  
****Castle**

"Where the 'ell are we going? Is this an abandoned cellar?"

"Just be patient, Mr. Hoskins. We can't let just anyone know about this place, nor what we are doing down here."

Jamie led Hoskins through the short tunnel from behind the old _Orange Orange_ down to the back entrance to _Castle_. All the electronic safety guards had long been removed, but they weren't necessary for this mission.

Three rapid knocks, a pause, four more light taps, and then two hard pounds on the door, and a short, bearded man opened the door, beckoning to them to enter quickly. "Hi Jamie … looking good there, my friend." In fact, Morgan's eyes had bugged out when he took a look at her outfit. _Focus, Morgan, focus!_ "Is this the gent you told me about? Welcome, sir, to my lair."

"Mr. Hoskins, meet my friend and business partner, Martin. Martin, Mr. Hoskins, from London."

"Oh, dude! London, England. I've never met…."

"Just get on with it," growled Hoskins, with a wave of his hand towards the room behind them.

"So here it is." 'Martin' proudly waved his hands at all the equipment, set up in a semicircle around two desk chairs. "This is the nerve center of our system, comprised of three MacPro's, all with one 3.2GHz Quad-Core Intel…."

As Hoskins' face turned red with anger, Jamie interrupted: "The computers are linked with our five vertical axis dishes, each operating as an off-axis concave…."

"Shut! Up! Both of you! Speak. English. I don't care about all your techno mumbo jumbo; just tell me what I get if I invest in your little plot."

Martin gleefully rubbed his hands together. "It's easier if we just show you."

Martin and Jamie sat down at the two computer terminals and begin typing. "Mr. Hoskins, pick a sport and a city."

"English soccer … Liverpool."

After some more typing on the keyboards, a soccer game appeared on the monitors. As soon as he saw it, Hoskins exclaimed, "That's the Liverpool-Blackpool game.

"Yes, sir, and it's a live feed. Now on this monitor over here," Martin hit another key, bringing a third monitor online, "is the media feed coming to the States. If you check the game clock on each, you will see a two minute sixteen second time difference. We will see the end of the game and know the final score, before it comes across the wire to the sports books."

"Very interesting." Hoskins looked around at the drab, concrete-walled room. It seemed like a pretty poor set up, but the equipment appeared topnotch, and what he was seeing on the monitors did appear legitimate. "And you can get any game going on anywhere?"

"That's right, Mr. Hoskins." Jamie was looking at him, smiling that big smile of hers. Hoskins could feel his senses quicken, but he couldn't tell if it was from the possibilities of a big win at gambling, or from the beauty of this woman.

Okay ... I'm in for 'alf."

"Half," Jamie whined? "Martin is already in for half."

"That's your problem, missy. You want me 'elp, you take me offer. Now get me out of 'ere … it smells!"

Hoskins headed for the backdoor. Sarah looked at Morgan with a big grin. He grinned back as they did a finger wiggle across each others' palms.

"He's hooked," Sarah whispered. "Now all we have to do is reel him in!"

Chasing Hoskins she yelled, "Okay, half it is. Mr. Hoskins, wait…. "

As she reached him, standing by the door, he suddenly grabbed her around the neck and pulled her head down to his chest. Putting his gun in her face, he snarled, "If this is anything, more or less, than what you say it is, this pretty face is going to splatter all over the room."

Despite her urge to take the gun away and beat him with it, she held back, choking out, "Relax, mate, there's nothing that can go wrong." She grimaced, making Hoskins think he had frightened her. But, unknown to him, her thoughts were on all the times one or another of Team Bartowski had said those very same words, only to have them come back to bite them.

**Scene 14:  
****February 23, 2013  
****4:20 pm  
**_**Carmichael Industries**_

Morgan ran into Chuck's office in a panic: "Hide me, Chuck, hide me!" He was bent over from the waist, feet set wide apart, holding his arms and hands out from his body, as if to fend off anything that came close. He stopped, then did a half pirouette to peer back at the door.

"Buddy, what's the matter?" Chuck was laughing at his little friend's antics.

"Hoskins is … Hoskins is in the elevator. Right now! Coming here!"

"Oh, crap! Okay, okay. Morgan, just go in the safe room. I'll take care of Hoskins." _Man, we overlooked the possibility of Hoskins running into him here._

Albert Hoskins stormed into _Carmichael Industries_ like the British Army stormed Juno Beach on D-Day. He walked in, chest thrown out, his footsteps slapping loudly on the hardwood flooring.

When she saw, on the monitor, who was in the elevator, Rita took a couple deep breaths, and prepared herself for an onslaught. But with a snarl ... something about damned perky American girls ... Hoskins just pushed past her, and moved down the hall to Chuck's office. By the time he arrived, Chuck, was standing in his office doorway, slightly out of breath.

"Mr. Hoskins, I wasn't expecting to see you this afterno…."

"No, I bet you weren't. It's been seven 'ours since you were at me 'otel room, and I 'aven't 'eard from you. Are you even working on my case? I told you, I'm not paying you to be sittin' around 'ere, playing your little computer games!"

Chuck was still standing in the doorway, keeping him in the hallway, and figured it was time to stand up to Hoskins' hostility. Pulling up to his full height, chest held high, and using his most commanding voice, he said, "These are my offices, sir, and I will not have you coming in here and harassing my staff. Nor are we 'playing games,' as you call it. You should have called before coming here: we would have told you that we have made a little progress, and then decided if it was enough to warrant a meeting."

Hoskins bristled: he was not used to being talked to in this manner. But Carmichael had said there was 'a little progress.' "Well…?" He wasn't going to back down from this computer nerd.

"If you will step into the room right behind you, I will show you what we have." After Morgan's warning, Chuck had just enough time to move their box of props into the Great Hall, and get back into his office, before their English friend had come stomping in. Morgan was safely hidden in the safe room, and was watching them on the monitor in there, in case Chuck needed backup.

Hoskins turned and walked across the hallway, into a large room. As he entered, the lights came on automatically and he stopped, shocked by the size and styling of the hall. Even with the classical look of the foyer and Carmichael's office, he was not prepared for the Great Hall, with it's enormous table, indirect lighting, and decorative wallhangings. Once he regained his composure, he realized Chuck had moved past him and was standing at the table. In front of him, on the table, he saw a box.

"Tell me again ... the description of Jack Burton."

"I already told you once…." Chuck put his hands on his hips and his best glower. Hoskins raised his hands in surrender, "Alright, alright. 60's … thick, silver 'air … 'earing aid or some kind of ear device."

Chuck reached in the box, "Mr. Hoskins ... meet Jack Burton." Chuck pulled out a silver haired wig and an iPod-like device, throwing them on the table. "I've checked this device: it is an electromagnetic triggering device. I would say this is how he cheated you, although I can't really tell you how, without looking at your table and wheel. We also found assorted credit cards in the names of: Simon Franko, Jimmie O'Connell, Guido Merkenz, and Jack Burton."

"How did you find these 'ere things?"

"I have an informant at his hotel; she called me just after I left your place. Burton had just left the hotel with a woman, so I hurried over and searched the room again."

"So now what?"

"We have a lead on where he's setting up his gambling club. If we can confirm that, we can go tomorrow night."

"That's good, because I 'ave another engagement tonight."

"I'll let you know by noon tomorrow. If we're on, I'll pick you up at your hotel."

"Fine." Hoskins turned and walked out.

Chuck held his breath until he heard Hoskins get in the elevator, afraid that he would come back, asking for more information, or wanting to go tonight.

"That is one mean gorilla." Chuck jumped, startled by Morgan's voice, having forgotten he was in the safe room. "I think we need to give Rita combat pay for her encounters with Big Mr. London Douche-Bag." Chuck could only nod in agreement.

**Scene 15:  
****February 23, 2013  
****8:10 pm  
**_**The Dreamcatcher**_

_The Dreamcatcher _was a 120 foot yacht, seized by the DEA in a drug raid off the coast of Baja, and already berthed at a perfect location. Sarah really hadn't thought the DEA would be willing to loan it to _CI_, but figured it was worth a called anyway. Once she mentioned Carina Miller, they were more than happy to help.

Sarah then called _Interiors Extraordinaire, _the design team that had helped create _CI_. Sarah had helped them afterwards, sending them a couple of referrals, and when she called to ask if they could take on another project for her, they jumped at the chance. Eyebrows raised when Sarah filled them in on her plans to remodel the yacht's main salon, turning it into a casino, but the team was discreet enough not to ask any questions about her reasons. Within minutes they hard at work, sketching ideas and getting Sarah's input on colors, materials, and fixtures.

The conversion process itself wasn't too difficult, but the time constraints had really stretched everyones' capabilities. The workers were still installing the money window grills, finishing up the painting, and getting the bar and video displays operational, as the actors hired to play the roles of gamblers and casino workers, gathered. Jack handed out assignments as they arrived, and wandered around, checking all the details, trying to hurry up the process. Hoskins could arrive at any minute so they had to be ready at a moment's notice.

Everything suddenly came to a complete, and silent, standstill. The sound of several tools being dropped, by workmen around the room, shattered the quiet. Jack turned towards the door, saw a woman walking across the floor, and did a double take before he realized it was his daughter. Sarah was, again, dressed as Jamie Bailey: this time in a very short, very tight red dress, fishnet stockings and black, over the knee boots.

"Hi." And then, leaning close and whispering, she added, "Close your mouth ... dad." Her giggle was something he had rarely heard from his always serious offspring. _Something Charlie has taught her._

"Uh, Sarah, you sure that's appropriate for a club's enforcer?"

"Trust me, here in California, no one would even look twice."

All he could do was shake his head, "Okay ... if you say so. But, I can tell you this, _Jamie_: everyone in here HAS looked twice … or more. Even the women!" Jack laughed out loud as Sarah glared at him, while blushing brightly; if he had known her kick ass ninja abilities, he might have retreated out of range. Instead, he looked down at the floor for a moment, and then continued, "So, how's Hoskins doing?"

"Ah ha ha … not only has he swallowed the bait ... he's practically throwing himself into the boat!"

"Great! You know ... nothing titillates the senses more than a first rate sting." Jack looked at Sarah with a mirthful smile, "Do you miss it?"

"No, dad. I honestly don't miss it at all. The CIA changed the kind of cons I ran, but they were still cons. I think ...at least I convinced myself … I was doing it for the greater good. But then I met Chuck, and found an honest, caring man, who could teach me to love that kind of life."

"I'm still amazed: he really is something … scrupulously honest." Jack paused to look into the eyes of his beautiful daughter; the love and contentment was so obvious to him.

"After all the wanderlust with me, and then the CIA, you now sound completely domesticated."

"Does that bother you, dad?"

Jack Burton looked at his daughter with a mirthful twinkle in his eye, "Well, it intrigues me."

About an hour later all the workmen had left, and now the actors were getting into their roles, on both sides of the tables. They were ready.

A red light, over the entrance, blinked three times. Jack clapped his hands and shouted, "Okay everyone: it's showtime." Instantly, everyone was completely into their parts.

A doorman opened the door and Hoskins walked in, stopping just inside to take in the whole room. _Pretty impressive. Maybe I should look into taking out Tucker and making this my new base. NO! I could never stand it here in the colonies. But the boat is a great idea._

Jamie moved towards him and she saw his eyes travel up and down her body, once again eliciting a glazed look in his eyes. "What took you so long? We already have the results: Swansea over Newcastle, 2-0." As she spoke, she pulled an envelope out of her purse and deftly passed it to him. Hoskins just smirked at her.

As he was moving towards the betting window, Chuck barged in, gave the doorman a shove, and glared at Jamie when she moved to stop him. Putting up a hand, she said, "Sorry, sir, this club is by invitation only."

"Gambling is illegal on the water around here, lady; I'll blow the lid of this place." Chuck was affecting a Brooklyn accent, sounding like a cross between Sam Spade and Vinnie Barbarino, causing Sarah to nearly burst into laughter.

By this time Tucker had gotten up from his chair and addressed Chuck: "My name is Jake Tucker. I own this barge. Now, what can I do for you?"

"Looking for somebody … goes by the name Jack Burton … heard he likes to frequent places like this."

"What do you want with this Burton?"

When he heard the name 'Jack Burton', Hoskins ducked into an alcove along one wall, and looked all around the room, trying to identify the man he was looking for.

"A client owes him some money; hired me to find him."

"Well, that's different. By all means, be my guest." Tucker waved his hand around the room, indicating he was free to look around.

While the two men talked, Jamie moved over to where Hoskins was hiding. "Did you make the bet?"

Shaking his head no, he responded, "There's a fellow 'ere I don't want 'im to see me before I see 'im."

"Aw, just great. Nice going … you missed it!"

"There's always tomorrow." Hoskins gave Jamie her envelope back and headed to the nearest exit.

**A/N2:** Next time on _Chuck vs The Sting of Steele_: As he hung up, Chuck grinned, very satisfied with the new sub-plan that he was hatching. But he had one more, important phone call to make.

One more chapter and then (maybe) an epilogue that does not come from the _Remington Steele_ episode. Hope you are still enjoying this little tale.


	4. 4 Reeling Him In

**A/N1: **So this is the final chapter of this rewrite of a 1983 _Remington Steele_ episode. Hope you have all enjoyed it. Yes, I know it is very much like _The Sting_ as well, but seems to fit into our 2013 _Chuck_ episodes as well.

Thanks to one and all who have taken the time to write reviews. You are an inspiration, as well helping me become a better writer. Please keep sending your thoughts; I really enjoy reading them.

Standard disclaimers here...

So here are a few things you need to know or may have forgotten: Jack Burton has conned a British casino owner and is now on the run. He enlists Sarah to help him, while Albert Hoskins, the casino owner, hires Carmichael Industries to find Jack Burton. Chuck finds out about Jack and Sarah's secret and, after confronting them, they all decide to work together. So the trio have set up their own gambling sting to catch Hoskins at his own game. The trap is set but will they be able to pull it off?

**4. Reeling Him In**

**Scene 16:  
****February 24, 2013  
****10:40 a.m.  
**_**Embassy Suite Hotel**_

Jamie arrived at Hoskins' hotel room and, seeing the door ajar, walked in. Hoskins was bustling around the room, throwing his clothes in a suitcase.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

"Somethin's come up, missy."

"What about my bet?"

"Sorry … it ain't gonna 'appen."

"Sorry … sorry? You flub it last night, and then all you can say is sorry?"

"The fellow I've been lookin' for, with a vengeance, 'as just been found. I've got to pay 'im my last respects."

"Yeah? What about my chance to get free of Tucker?"

Hoskins stopped packing, stood up straight, and looked at her. Then he growled: "Why don't you just put a bullet in his ear?"

Grabbing his suitcase, Hoskins shoved past Jamie and out the door. She waited a few seconds before following him, this time in full stealth mode ... Sarah Walker, spy extraordinaire. Peering around the corner of the hallway, she watched as he got on the elevator and headed down to the lobby.

"Come on, Chuck, pick up." As soon as the elevator doors shut, Sarah had grabbed her phone and called him. She had to warn him about this new development.

"Hi, Sarah. What's up?"

"Hoskins just left his hotel room. He's packed and ready to head out of town. Could he have found out where dad is?"

"I doubt it but ... uh … I think I know how to fix this. Let your dad know about this little snag, then you two just go on with the plan. If there is any change, I'll let you know."

"Are you sure, Chuck?"

"Trust me, Sarah. This will work."

"I always do, Chuck ... one of the many things I love about you."

"Right back at you, sweetheart. See you at the yacht."

"Uh ... hey, Chuck?"

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"I really miss you. We haven't even kissed or hugged once yet today."

"I know, babe … I know … I miss you too. When this is all over tonight, it's just us … you and me.…"

Once off the phone with Sarah, Chuck immediately dialed Hoskins' cell phone, getting a gruff hello when he answered. "Mr. Hoskins, Charles Carmichael, here. I have some news for you."

"What?"

"Jack Burton was using a disguise in your club…."

Interrupting, Hoskins yelled through the phone, "We already know that!"

"Yes, yes we do. But I also know that he is here and using yet another alias."

"And what name does he go by here?"

"Jake Tucker."

"What!? Why that dirty, rotten…."

"But, wait. Listen, there's more, but I don't want to tell you over the phone. Can you come by the office? I'll lay out the information and then we can formulate a plan."

"Fine. I'll be there a little after 2:00."

As he hung up, Chuck grinned, very satisfied with the new sub-plan that he was hatching. But he had one more, important phone call to make.

**Scene 17:  
****February 24, 2013  
****2:00 p.m.  
**_**The Dreamcatcher**_

Sarah and Jack were sitting at one of the bar tables, playing gin rummy. They were pretty evenly matched, having done this so many nights during her youth.

"You know, Sarah, when this all started and I knew I had to call you for help, I fully intended to try to lure you away ... one final romp across the country, as it were."

"Dad…."

"I know, darlin', I know. It would have been a futile request. When I last saw you two, you were both in big trouble, and I guess a part of me was hoping you hadn't been able to completely resolve all the issues. But now … well, I'm happy for you, proud of you, and just want you and the schnook to be happy."

Sarah smiled with her dad's term of endearment for Chuck. "Thanks, dad. I appreciate you telling me all this. But what about reversing our roles? How about you stay and settle down here? Like you said, the fox grows wiser, but also slower. Don't you think it's time for you to settle down somewhere?"

"I can honestly tell you, a part of me is tempted."

"Which part, dad? The one that dreams, or the one that acts?"

Their eyes met for a brief moment and each could tell the other was deeply moved by the conversation. Sarah was about to speak again when her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"'ello, Jamie. This is Albert Hoskins."

"I thought you blasted off." Sarah spat the words back at him, making him think she was truly upset with him. In reality, she was more upset that he'd just interrupted one of the most sincere conversations she had ever had with her dad.

"Yeah, well…. Listen, can you get a score for Man United vs. Norwich? I'll lay on an extra thousand for you."

"Okay, yeah I can do that. Be here by 3:30 this afternoon." Sarah hung up and smiled at her dad while hitting the speed dial for Chuck.

"Hi, honey. Yeah, Hoskins bought it."

"Great. The next part is tricky, but I can handle it. You guys set on your end? Okay, see you soon. Love you, hon."

Jack smiled up at his daughter, "You know, maybe I should follow up on The Major's plan: head to the south of France and watch bikini bottoms frolic."

Sarah laughed briefly, but then turned serious. "Uh, dad ... things might get a little swift tonight, and I want to say something I've never had the courage to say before."

"What, darlin'?"

Looking at him warmly, a small tear in each eye, Sarah moved in for a hug and whispered in his ear, "Thank you." Still holding each other, they pulled back enough to look at each other, and smiled once again.

**Scene 18:  
****February 24, 2013  
****2:15 pm  
**_**Carmichael Industries**_

Albert Hoskins once again sat in Chuck's office, this time on the sofa against the wall to the left of the door. Chuck sat in the chair next to him, at a ninety degree angle to the sofa. They each held a brandy snifter; Chuck's shook visibly in his hand.

"Alright, Carmichael, 'ere we are, 'aving a nice social drink. What do you want now?"

"Well, I'm afraid I haven't told you everything."

"Why not?" Hoskins sat up straighter as if he was going to strike out at Chuck.

Nervously, Chuck set down the glass and wiped his hands on his pants. "Weeellllll, you know, st-starting up a business like this takes, uh, a lot of capital. Jake Tucker … or Jack Burton … called me last night; he offered twenty grand over what you are paying, for me to steer you wrong. But now I'm feeling pretty guilty about double crossing you like that."

"So you grew a pair, eh?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, if you'd like to … uh ... make, make an … an additional contribution … to _Carmichael Industries, _of course ... I'll be happy to tell you the rest of what I found."

"Why don't I just beat it out of you?"

"You could try. But on a scale of one to ten, my pain threshold is about a one … or a little less. So I would pass out after the first punch, and then you wouldn't get anything out of me."

Under his breath he mumbled, "Damned wimpy Yanks." Then to Chuck: "How much?"

"The twenty grand, to match Tucker's offer, would be about right."

After a pause, while Hoskins took a drink and looked around the room, he growled, "Let's hear it."

"Let's see it." Chuck tried to sound tough with his reply, but he was worried Hoskins would still try taking it out of his hide in the end.

Hoskins pulled up a briefcase that was sitting next to him, on the floor. Opening it, Chuck could see it was full of cash in neat bundles. Hoskins picked up two bundles, looked them over, and then tossed them to Chuck.

Continuing to play the nervous nellie, he fumbled them, and had to retrieve them. Once he was seated again, playing with the bundles, he told Hoskins: "Tucker has a complete dossier on you."

"What's that?" Hoskins about came off the sofa.

"He thinks you killed a friend of his called The Major. He's waiting for you to walk onto the boat. When you do he's going to even the score."

Shaking his head, Hoskins thought all this through, before looking at Chuck once again. "How did he get on to me?"

"Don't you think he's missed the wig and electronic device by now?"

**Scene 19:  
****February 24, 2013  
****3:20 pm  
**_**The Dreamcatcher**_**, parking lot**

The limousine pulled into a parking place at the marina, near _The Dreamcatcher_. From the number of cars already parked there, it appeared that the gambling business was already going strong. Hoskins grabbed his briefcase and started to get out.

Chuck grabbed him by the arm, getting a reaction much like Casey if you touched him. "You'll never get past the front door carrying that piece. He'll know you're on to him."

"Don't it bother you I might 'ave killed somebody in London?"

"No. I don't care what happened over there; I just care what happens to me here."

"You ain't very principled are you?"

"Can't be, on what it takes to make it in this business."

"Fine. 'ere." Hoskins pulled out the gun and handed it to Chuck, who held it between his thumb and forefinger, like it was covered with slime. "You keep it."

"That'll cost you extra." He finally got the gun under control and tucked it into the back waistband of his pants, under his sport coat. A vision of Sarah flashed through his brain; every time he put a gun there, he thought about her, and just how delicious she was, armed to the teeth, with her gun in that very position.

Now Hoskins exited the car. Once out, he reached back in and pulled Chuck out with him. "Hey! I can't go in there."

"Listen, bub … you're packin' the only protection I've got; I ain't lettin' you out of my sight."

**Scene 20:  
****February 24, 2013  
****3:30 pm  
**_**The Dreamcatcher**_

The red light once again blinked three times and everyone sprung into action. Jamie moved to the door as it was opened. She stood in front of Hoskins, stopping him from going any further. But her eyes were not on him, but rather on the man standing behind him: Chuck! He was not suppose to be here. _Why have you come inside, Chuck? _He shrugged slightly when he saw her eyes on him, knowing this was not part of the plan, as she knew it.

"Sorry, Mr. Hoskins," she said as she quickly frisked him. Then turning to face Tucker she continued, "He's clean." Tucker did not look happy but waved him in, then returned to his card game.

Hoskins, carrying the same briefcase he had earlier, at _CI_, moved towards the betting window, with Jamie walking beside him. Leaning in, she whispered, "Bad news, Mr. Hoskins. Norwich beat Manchester 6-0."

"It's only a game, Jamie." He pats the case he's carrying, "This is life."

"How much you betting?"

"Fifty thousand."

"What? That's too much to bet against Manchester; he'll smell something and sniff it back to me."

Hoskins poked Jamie on the shoulder angrily. "Look, you're boss took me for a half million pounds, then set himself up in business with my money. The only way I'm going to get him back is through that window." They arrived at the betting window, and Jamie looked around the room with a sour expression on her face. He opened the case and said to the young woman inside, "English soccer, fifty thousand on Norwich." He slid the case through the slot in the window and the young woman inside began to print out a receipt.

Suddenly, the front doors slammed open, indistinct yelling coming from the hallway.

A very attractive, blond, older woman stormed into the room, a wild look about her eyes. She looked around for a couple seconds and then pointed at Tucker. "YOU! You slimy bastard, Jack Burton! First you steal all our life savings, then you leave, taking our only daughter. I'm sick of it … I'm sick of you." With these final words she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a gun.

Jamie had moved towards the door as the commotion began, but now she was standing still, staring at the woman, her mouth wide open. Finally she regained her senses and started forward again, "Mo…." She never finished the word as Chuck grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to the floor. Shots began to ring out as he jumped up and moved back to where Hoskins was standing. For once in his life, Hoskins was completely unsure what to do.

The first shot from the woman's gun hit Tucker/Burton squarely in the chest and blood quickly stained his white tuxedo shirt. As he fell to the ground, three more shots rang out, as the woman, clearly unused to the recoil of a handgun, sprayed bullets around the room. The mirror behind the bar, a wall sconce on the right wall, and the glasses on a table to the left of the entrance, were all hit by the wild shooting spree.

Suddenly, sirens scream out and several voices yell, "Cops!" Panic ensued, with everyone trying to find a hiding place or exit the room.

As the sirens neared and then stopped, Chuck pushed Hoskins towards the rear door, another wall sconce exploding over their heads.

They had just disappeared through the door when Sarah finally regained her feet and ran over to the woman with the gun. Wrenching it from her hand, all she can do was stare at the woman, who now starting to smile prettily; finally Sarah swallowed hard and croaked out: "MOM?"

**Outside….**

Two men moved quickly through the yacht and down the forward gangplank. Chuck started to run to the parking lot, but Hoskins grabbed him, "That's my money in there."

Looking around at all the red, white, and blue police lights on the pier, Chuck asked, "You want to back in there now?"

Hoskins hesitated briefly and then said, "Naw … it was worth it to see Burton dead and gone."

They quickly reached the limousine, and Hoskins turned to Chuck, "Thanks, Chuckie. You know, you're the only 'onest person I met in this bum country."

Chuck just smiled as he opened the door and Hoskins climbed in. Shutting the door he leaned down to the driver's window and said, "Airport." He patted the top of the limo twice and then stepped back as the sleek, black car backed out and sped away.

**Inside….**

Reentering the betting salon, Chuck shouted out, "All clear! He's on the way to the airport." Applause erupted around the room.

Emma moved towards the prone figure, still lying on the floor. Leaning over him she flexed her index finger, "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty." More applause and cheering began as Jack picked his head up, looked around the room, and then stood, taking his ex-wife's hands in his, bringing them up to his lips.

Sarah was still standing in the same place, looking at the pair with wide eyes, a stunned look on her face. Chuck walked up to her, placing his arm around her waist. She looked at him, then back to her parents, and then back at her husband. The blank look on her face hadn't changed a bit, until finally, seeing her favorite smile and his dancing eyebrows, she slumped against him and smiled ... a small, uncertain smile.

Chuck looked at Emma and Jack. Emma was beaming, and when she looked at Chuck, she deftly tapped her index finger on the side of her nose. Chuck happily copied the movement and they all laughed again. Except Sarah….

Once they knew Hoskins was safely away to the airport, there was quite a celebration on the yacht. Chuck moved around the room handing out checks to all the actors, and Sarah invited them to stay and eat and drink as much as they wanted. The cleanup crews would be coming the next morning, to remove the set they had built only two days earlier.

The party was in full swing when Jack, Emma, Chuck, and Sarah gave everyone a final thank you, and left to go back to Echo Park. Morgan and Alex were waiting for them, and they had their own, albeit, much quieter celebration.

**Scene 21:  
****February 24 2013  
****8:00 pm  
**_**Echo Park**_

Sarah opened a bottle of champagne with a loud pop, and everyone clapped and cheered.

As she filled everyone's glasses, Chuck, who had been on the phone, joined them, "That was the courier: Hoskins' plane departed on schedule, at 7:30. His gun is on the same plane, in the possession of the air marshall; it will prove he's guilty of The Major's murder. Scotland Yard has been alerted, and will arrest him at Heathrow."

"And with him convinced that I'm dead, I won't have to be looking over my shoulder. Thank you, one and all." Jack looked from one to another as he spoke, finally making eye contact with Sarah, giving her a wink and a smile. They all clinked their glasses together and took a sip of the bubbly.

Sarah's spy face appeared suddenly and she bumped Chuck's shoulder, making him spill his drink, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Come on, honey. We had to act fast. Besides, If I had told you, would you have let your mom participate in our little drama?"

"Of course not! But…."

"Look … we needed a fresh face that Hoskins hadn't seen. Alex is too young; Mom and Ellie are in Chicago. I just couldn't trust this to a stranger; it had to be family."

"You gave her live bullets!" As Emma began to speak, Sarah looked at her sternly, "Mom, they gave you real bullets!"

"Sarah, dear, not the one I fired at your father. Besides, when you brought Molly to me, you paid for me to take shooting lessons. Did you think I just wasted your money? Anyway," she looked sternly at Jack, "do you really think I would pass up a chance to shoot my ex-husband?" This time it was Jack's turn to not join in the laughter.

"Okay now, come on guys. It's time you filled Alex and me in on all the excitement." Alex knew even less than Morgan about this latest adventure, so they started at the beginning and retold the whole tale. They laughed at Chuck's terrible imitation of Hoskins' English accent, Alex ooh-ed at Morgan's small role, and they relished the subtleties of their latest adventure.

As they retold the final scene on the yacht, Sarah walked away, standing in the kitchen, with an uncomfortable look on her face. Chuck noticed, and moved to stand with her, putting his arm around her. Leaning into her he whispered, "I'll make this up to you, I promise." As his words and breath, tickled her ear, she blushed deeply.

The ever observant Jack Burton saw his daughter blush. "I've seen that look on her mother before. I think it's time we all take our leave."

**Scene 22:  
****February 25, 2013  
****11:30 pm  
**_**Echo Park**_

After they said goodnight to the rest of the family, Chuck and Sarah adjourned to their bedroom.

"It seems like forever since we were able to be together, in our own bed."

"I know, sweetie. This was really hard, playing opposite sides of the same mission. Let's not do this again anytime soon."

"Agreed."

When they were finally lying together, Sarah shivered slightly, and moved into her favorite position, snuggled into Chuck's side, her head on his chest, his arm around her. He rubbed his feet against her perpetually cold ones, eliciting a purr of contentment.

Sarah moved slightly and began to gently kiss Chuck along his jawline. "Don't go starting something you can't finish, missy."

Grabbing his T-shirt and pulling him closer, she gave a credible version of a Casey grunt and snarled, "Hoskins called me that, mister … did I mention I pulled a knife on him when he pinned me on his bed?"

Chuck sat up quickly, "What? No, yo … on his bed? When? No you didn't mention that … must have slipped your mind."

"I guess that's just like you not mentioning my mother's involvement…."

"Now, come on, honey. I explained tha…." He stopped and looked at his adorable wife as a mischievous smile began to light up her face while her eyes danced and sparkled.

"Okay, okay. I guess we're even now." He closed the gap between them and began running kisses along her cheek and into her ear.

"Ewww…." Sarah scrunched up her shoulders and tucked her head in as far as possible, trying to escape the squishy, tickling kisses Chuck was applying to her ear. As he pulled away, he was able to capture her earlobe and pulled on it with a loud sucking sound. As electricity shot up and down her spine, Sarah quickly rolled them both over, pinned him to the bed with her knees on either side of him, and pressed her chest down onto his.

"Ooohhhhhhh, Saaaaaarahhhhhhh!" All he could do was press his head down into his pillow and luxuriate in the feeling of her body against his. As she ran her tongue up the side of his neck and repaid him by attacking his ear, he ran his hands down along her flanks, fireworks flashing through his brain.

Just before she completely devoured him, Sarah came up for air and breathlessly exclaimed: "And for your information, _Mr. Walker_, I fully intend on finishing everything I start with you."

**A/N2:** Hope you enjoyed the finale. I am going to publish an epilogue but it will all Charah. So if you are satisfied with the wrap of the 'mission,' and Charah isn't your thing, you won't have to read that final finale.

Chuck and Sarah will return in Season 6, Episode 5 (but there's no title as yet). Stay tuned.


	5. 5 Epilogue

**A/N: **Bonus: Chapter 4 and 5 all in one day! As I mentioned in CH4, this is all Charah, the day after the big 'sting.' If you aren't into that kind of thing, you can skip this.

I will be back with more Chuck and Sarah, et al, but haven't started anything new as yet so it might be a while. Have a couple AU's in mind, but also want to continue 'Season 6.' so we'll see what the muse brings out of me next. Thanks to one and all for reading and, hopefully, enjoying.

**5. Epilogue**

**Scene 23:  
****February 25, 2013  
****9:00 am  
**_**Echo Park**_

The morning sun awakened Chuck and he remained still, basking in the warmth coming from the sun, as well as emanating from the warm, lithe body draped all around him. He smiled, as he thought back to the night of love they had shared.

Their life together was so great now: professionally, _Carmichael Industries_ was growing by leaps and bounds, the new patents Morgan was finishing up, for their new hardware and software, would bring them an almost endless income stream, and they were working together as a team better than ever. More importantly, their personal lives were what they had both always hoped they would have. Above and beyond the incredible physical side of their relationship, they loved being together, best of friends, best of partners in every way. They had begun house hunting again, and had even opened the idea of children once again. _PERFECT!_

Sarah stirred in his arms and a smile instantly came to her already beautiful face. Lying, mostly on top of her amazing husband … _husband, I still can't quite believe how lucky I truly am_ … she was warm and content, the afterglow of the previous night's loving still percolating through her veins. As she had told her dad, what missing memories there still were, were no longer important to her; they would come back … or not; the memory of last night, and all those nights in Africa, and all the days and nights to come were what her life now was all about. Chuck, and all the rest of the close and extended family made her happier than she ever dreamed possible.

Chuck had begun to trace circles on her back and Sarah could feel the goosebumps starting to ripple across her skin. "Good morning, lover boy."

It was only a whisper but Chuck clearly heard her, bringing his smile to its fullest. "My lady … did you sleep well?"

"Wonderfully!" She raised her head to look at his handsome face and was shocked by the intensity of his deep chocolate eyes, and his effervescent smile. "Wow! You are bright-eyed this morning!"

"And how I could I not be, lying here with the most beautiful woman in the world?"

"Mmmmmmmmm … you say the nicest things." Sarah snuggled back into his side and hugged him to her.

The man of her dreams, however, had other plans. He suddenly rolled to his left, taking her onto her back, and ending up hovering directly over her. Staring into the bluest eyes he had ever seen, his breathing was already shallow and rapid. "I love you, Sarah, with all my heart and soul."

As he lowered himself to her lips she had just enough time to respond, "And I love you-mmmmmmm!"

**Scene 24:  
****February 25, 2013  
****12:15 pm  
**_**Hilton Checkers, Hotel, Checkers**_ _**Restaurant**_

Chuck and Sarah finally managed to shower and dress after their fun morning of love. They would probably have still been in bed together except they had luncheon plans with Sarah's parents. Emma was pacing around the courtyard when they emerged at 11:30, and they drove to the _The Hilton Checkers Hotel,_ where Jack had kept the room Sarah had arranged for 'Simon Franko'. Traffic was light for a Monday and they were only fifteen minutes late.

While in the shower together, Sarah told Chuck she thought this lunch was a bad idea, considering the animosity between Emma and Jack, but he assured her they would be fine; and he would not make any overt suggestions that they should think about seeing each other more. The last comment got him a smack on the shoulder, causing Chuck to pout until Sarah kissed the red spot she had just caused.

On the way, Chuck's phone buzzed. After answering, he mouthed to Sarah: "Scotland Yard." The conversation only lasted a couple of minutes, with his smile getting bigger and bigger. Upon disconnecting he gave out a hearty "Yes!" Both women were anxiously waiting and finally Emma poked his shoulder from the back seat. " Okay, okay. That was Detective John Marshall. He was just calling to thank us for the intel and the gun. They followed up the leads and found The Major's body. Hoskins is now under lock and key and, with all the evidence they now have, will be in jail for a very, very long time!"

Emma cheered and Sarah reached over to squeeze his hand and flash her electric smile. When they arrived at the hotel, Sarah rushed up to Jack and gave him the good news. The trio were soon seated in the restaurant, all with lighter hearts.

The lunch went well. While her parents weren't openly friendly, they were, at least, cordial. They shared a few Sarah stories, causing the most delicious blushes, which, in turn, made Chuck's heart skip a beat or two. He had reached over and taken her hand when the stories started, despite her protests, and, as she blushed so sweetly, he squeezed her hand and rubbed his thumb across her wedding ring.

Chuck and Sarah, in turn, shared their visions for _Carmichael Industries_ and their lives together. Jack pressed them to share some of their CIA missions, but Sarah firmly insisted that their classified status made that impossible. She did share some of Chuck's less than impressive beginnings, including his tendency to scream like a little girl. Now it was his turn to blush, giving Sarah the opportunity to kiss his cheek sweetly, while squeezing his hand.

Emma looked at her watch. "I'm really sorry, but I need to head home. I need to pick up Molly from her friend's house; she has her piano lesson this evening." Jack signed for the bill and they all walked out to the lobby together.

"Nice to see you again, Jack. But you don't need an emergency to come see us; you are welcome anytime." Chuck shook hands with his father-in-law.

"Take care of my girl, schnook." They both laughed lightly.

Sarah hugged him, "Where are you headed, dad?"

"Atlanta. I've heard that the construction business is booming. You take care of him," nodding his head towards Chuck. "He loves you like you deserve to be loved." She hugged him once again before pulling away and taking Chuck's hand.

Despite the previous evening's party and now this luncheon, there was still an uneasy awkwardness between Emma and Jack. She took his arm and they walked a short distance away before she spoke quietly, "Jack, it is nice to see you again, and I'm glad I could help you out. I do wish you well. But don't you think it's time to avoid situations like this, and let these two kids live their life together a little more safely?"

Jack was quietly standing there, his head down. "Emma, I'm sorry…."

"Shhh … I know…." Emma reached out and lifted his head so she could look into his eyes. She smiled sadly, then turned to walk back to Sarah and Chuck.

Chuck watched them and then looked at Sarah, who was fighting back the tears forming in her eyes. He gently rubbed her back, knowing how really hard it was for her to see them together like this. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Back at Echo Park, after collecting her luggage, Sarah and Chuck walked Emma to her car. They each hugged Emma and kissed her cheek. Facing them, she reached out and took one hand of each of them, and smiled, "You two are gifts to one another. Take care of each other always. Let's get together soon; Molly's been asking to see you both."

"Give her our love. Bye Mom; drive safely."

**Scene 25:  
****February 25, 2013  
****5:00 pm  
**_**The Dreamcatcher**_

After Emma departed for San Diego, Chuck and Sarah drove to the marina to check on the yacht. Morgan and Alex met them on deck as the cleanup crews prepared to leave. The 'casino' was gone, and the main salon of the yacht had been returned to its original state.

The four friends moved up to the enclosed bridge, to share a glass of wine and watch the sunset. The four friends chatted and laughed together, at peace with the world. As the sun reached the horizon, Alex stood up, pulling her boyfriend up with her. "Morgan, we'd better get going. We don't want to be late for dinner with mom."

"Oh, right. I'd forgotten. It's so peaceful here."

"I guess we might as well go, too, Chuck."

"Sweetie, before we go, let's do a final walk through. You know the DEA will hold you responsible if anything is amiss."

Sarah started to protest, but out of the corner of her eye, she caught Morgan giving Chuck a thumbs up sign. So she just said goodbye to their friends. As they walked away she turned back to Chuck, with her hands on her hips, "Okay, Chuck, what's are you up to?"

"Darn. I knew I couldn't surprise you. At least give me credit for trying."

"Well, I could, but maybe you should show me what you are hiding first?"

"Okay." Chuck led his lovely bride down back down to the main salon. He moved behind her and placed his hands over her eyes. "Now before you go all ninja on me, just trust me."

"I do trust you, Chuck. Just let me remind you: I am a trained assassin. who is still trying to get used to your surprises."

"Never: that fact is truly burned into my brain. Now, just move forward slowly." Chuck guided her forward, to the opposite wall where he opened the door leading into the next room.

They moved through the doorway and Sarah smelled candles burning; an upswell of emotion began to overtake her. Chuck leaned in closely and whispered, "Open your eyes, sweetheart."

As he took his hands away, she opened her eyes, gasping as she brought her hands to her mouth in amazement. The room was lit only by candlelight, giving off a warm glow. In the center of the room was a table, two candles burning brightly, reflecting off the white tablecloth. Two all-white place settings were on each side of the table and an ice bucket, on a stand, stood next to the table. A bottle of champagne was already cooling for them.

The rest of the room was lost to Sarah as she turned into Chuck's arms and took his face between her hands. The subtle touch of her finger tips sent chills running through him, as he stared into her eyes, fascinated by the pinpoints of candlelight reflected there. She leaned in and touched his lips with hers ever so gently, as his hands wrapped around her waist.

"How did you do all this, honey?"

Chuck smiled and his eyebrows danced happily, "Oh, you know, it's just what any normal, ordinary husband does for his loving wife." Sarah felt her knees weaken from the sparkles in his eyes, and the thought that her Chuck could ever be normal or ordinary.

"This is not what a 'normal' guy does, sweetie. Besides, I saw your high sign from Morgan."

"I have no idea what you are talking about … _Agent Walker_." Their laughter filled the room before they moved into another kiss.

She leaned back slightly and grinned: "You did this at the house … a meal ... candlelight … you aren't planning to buy this yacht for us to live on are you?"

"No, no, no. Although" … Chuck looked thoughtfully up to the ceiling … "_CI_ could use a place to entertain and woo clients."

"I don't really think so, Chuck. Let's stick to one place of business at a time."

Chuck slid his hands up her back, and then down her arms, until he reached her hands, taking them in his. After kissing each one in turn, he gently turned her, and escorted her to the table. He pulled out her chair, kissing the top of her head once she was seated. Moving to the bar, he retrieved their meals from two food warmers, while Sarah pulled out the bottle of champagne and poured for each of them.

They chatted lightly while eating, but more important were the unspoken volumes that poured across the table from a deeply blue set of eyes to a chocolate brown set and back again.

Once Chuck had served the food and sat down, Sarah had slipped her high heels off, relishing the feel of the deep pile carpet under her toes. Dessert completed the meal when Chuck brought her a crystalline bowl of Rocky Road ice cream. Knowing he was watching, Sarah took a bite, then slowly and sensuously pulled the spoon out of her mouth. His eyes darkened as she licked the spoon clean. Completing her seduction, she ran her right foot up Chuck's leg.

He jumped, nearly falling out of his chair, and Sarah laughed at his blush, and crooked little smile, both equally visible, even in the candlelight. His vision was just returning to normal when she moved her foot a second time, a little higher this time. His eyes slammed closed, his lips formed an 'OH,' and his head tilted to the left. He had just enough consciousness left to reach under the table and grab her foot, causing her to squeal; a squeal worthy of one Ellie Bartowski Woodcomb.

This sound brought him back to the moment and, letting her foot go, stood and walked, albeit with difficulty, around to her side of the table. Leaning down, he nuzzled her neck and then whispered, "Well, now that you've started something here, let me show you the rest."

"Chuuuuuuuck…." That gasp was all she could get out as his lips, once again, connected with her neck. It took all her considerable spy skills to be able to control her body enough to stand, turn, and wrap her arms around his neck. Their lips connected as they melted into one another, head to toe.

Maintaining the kiss, they moved together, dance-like, towards the far wall, where he pinned her against the wall, next to another door. He pulled away, finally needing to breath, and opened the door. Reaching into his pocket, he pressed the single button on a small device. The lights gradually came up to a soft, low glow, while soft music began to fill the space.

Sarah turned to look inside, her vision still blurred from the kiss. The deep pile, white carpet continued on into this room but it appeared different here. Beginning at the doorway was a pathway, created by red rose petals, that led across the room to the bed, which was also covered in the lovely flower petals. As she moved slowly forward, the only other detail she noticed were the two large bouquets, one on each side of the bed, of gardenias.

"Oh, my ... Chuck ... this is so beautiful. But, honey, I didn't do anything for you."

"_Au contraire_, _ma Sarah ..._ you have done everything for me … every day I see you, every time I hold you … you do for me, all I could ever ask."

"Chuck … let's make a baby…."

**FINIS**


End file.
